


Cough-It 19

by xoPeapup



Series: AFTERCARE [6]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Aftercare Universe - No specific timeline, BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:01:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 10,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25605490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xoPeapup/pseuds/xoPeapup
Summary: Hey folks, Susanne here again. I am importing this from the author's social media although three days are missing (please let me know if you know where I can find them). It wasn't written to be officially part of the series and got only shared with a handful of people at the time. Please refrain from hateful comments, I would hate for Mig to come back one day and having to read them.
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Jesus, Daryl Dixon/Jesus/Negan, Daryl Dixon/Negan, Jesus/Shane Walsh, Rick Grimes/Shane Walsh
Series: AFTERCARE [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/825264
Comments: 18
Kudos: 106





	1. Day 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey folks, Susanne here again. I am importing this from the author's social media although three days are missing (please let me know if you know where I can find them). It wasn't written to be officially part of the series and got only shared with a handful of people at the time. Please refrain from hateful comments, I would hate for Mig to come back one day and having to read them.

**Day 1**

"Happy birthday to you... happy birthday to you..."

Daryl glanced back over his shoulder when for the third time that day the same song was belted out as fervently as the national anthem during Super Bowl.

"Haaappyy BIIIRTHDAAYYY BABY JEEESUS! .... HAPPY BIRTHDAY TOOOO YOUUU!"

The water was turned off, the maltreated disinfectant dispenser squeaked a little when the nozzle was pushed down three times, and a bright smiling Paul Rovia entered the living room, rubbing his glistening hands. "What are we watching?" He flopped down on the couch, kissing Daryl's cheek. "War of the worlds?"

"Mh." Daryl nodded towards the TV. "News."

_"The travel ban from Europe to the United States has come into force, as a growing number of countries across the world ramp up their efforts to stop the spread of the virus."_

He wrinkled his nose at the blonde, very serious looking news presenter. For the past week, all every channel was talking about was this stupid virus.

_"Under the new restrictions, people arriving in the country – including citizens – will be required to self-isolate for two weeks."_

Negan switched the TV off and dropped the remote on the coffee table on his way to the dining area. "Dinner's ready. Chop, chop." 

Olivia had prepared her famous, extra tasty Mediterranean butternut squash casserole and even though Daryl loved the little crunchy bits on top and usually would have eaten half the pan alone, he only halfheartedly poked his food with one tine of his fork today, absently gazing at the red cup next to his plate. 

"Boy." Negan tapped the table with one finger. "You wanna eat. Shit gets cold."

"Hm." Daryl glanced up, put a piece of squash on his fork but then didn't eat it. "Simon's still in Spain."

"I know." 

Paul looked from Daryl to Negan, putting his glass down. "But they said they close the borders. Will he still get back home?"

"Of course he will. They won't keep his pervy ass over there longer than fucking necessary." Negan tapped the table once more. "Don't worry about it. Eat."

Paul shrugged, digging into his food, while Daryl sniffed his nose and hesitated a moment longer. He really hated this stupid virus. 


	2. Day 4

**Day 4**

Daryl angrily pushed the kickstand down in front of the store, swung his leg over the seat, and pulled the helmet off on the way inside. He didn't bother to greet the intern, didn't care that he left wet footprints on the ground, and only stopped his angry stride when he reached the counter. "'s closed!"

Negan didn't look up from his notepad but pointed a black, rubber-clad finger at the still jingling door. "Go back outside. Come up with a better way to enter my property and greet me."

Something hot shot instantly through Daryl's chest, mixing up with the anger and frustration he was consumed by ever since he had left the premises of Apex-Swimming. He didn't want to leave the store. He didn't want to be polite and friendly. He wanted to kick something and punch someone. But he turned around anyway and left as he was told because Negan didn't give him any attention and he hated that even more than shut-down indoor pools.

It had stopped raining by now and he hung his helmet onto the handlebar of the bike, then swiped a fingertip through the rain droplets on the leather seat while he glanced through his damp bangs, watching Negan through the shop window. He wore jeans and a simple white, long-sleeved shirt... along with a pair of gloves. Black ones, made of rubber. Which was strange because he usually wore them only in the playroom or for special occasions at night in bed. And even then he never wore two at the same time. But now he did, combined with a charming smile when a customer approached the counter with the leather jacket he wanted to buy. Negan seemed to like the choice and exchanged some words, put an extra Leather Factory-pen into the bag as a thank you, and accepted a credit card for payment. 

Daryl glowered through the window, hating everything he saw and especially the happily smiling young man who left the store a minute later with a black paper bag in hand. Maybe not entirely by accident, he bumped a little into him on his way through the door, but when it happened he felt kind of guilty and quickly mumbled a small 'sorry' instead of shouting the 'Watch it fucker!' that he initially wanted to state. 

He wiped some hair out of his face as he walked up to the counter for a second time that day and sniffed his nose once before he brought an almost friendly greeting out. "Hello."

"That's much better." Negan scribbled something on a notepad, then looked up. "Hello to you too. You are back early."

"Hm." Instead of telling the reason for his rather short trip to swim class, Daryl got distracted by the black rubber covering beautifully long fingers. "Are we playin'?" 

"Will I fist your sweet ass tonight? No. I'm wearing gloves for hygiene reasons." Negan sprayed the counter with disinfectant and wiped it down twice. "You wanna tell me why you're upset. Did Tina bother you?"

"Mh." Daryl shook his head, nibbling the side of his thumb as he watched the strange cleaning process. "Pool 's closed. Had a sign at the door 'cause of the virus."

Negan nodded once. "It' s only temporary." He dumped the wipe into the trash, facing his sub. "You wanna go upstairs, wash your hands and wait for me in the bathroom. I'll be up in 15 minutes."

Daryl sniffed his nose, "Okay." and left through the back entrance.


	3. Day 7

**Day 7**

It had been the shortest shift so far for Daryl Dixon. He arrived at the Eagle on time, started to wipe down some tables, and just twenty minutes later, was on his way back home because the government had issued statewide closure orders for bars, clubs, restaurants, and every other public space due to the current pandemic.

At first, he was happy. A night at home with the guys was always better than work. But as he parked his bike in the garage and entered the factory through the back entrance, stopping by Negan's office, his mood changed a little.

"No, there's PPP and you'll apply for a loan. It's a health crisis not the fucking apocalypse." Negan waved two fingers for his wary sub to come in. "No, of course not. But they wanna keep the economy up and running. Who'll pay fucking taxes when all this shit is over." He rolled back with his chair, offering one of his knees for Daryl to sit on. "It'll be fine. Go home and use your free time for something productive."

Even Daryl could hear the snippy reply through the phone and glanced back over his shoulder, wondering how Negan would react.

He chuckled. "How the hell would I know?! Come up with a cocktail recipe that's actually drinkable? Crochet a decorative cover for the lube dispenser?!" He laughed, shook his head, "Yeah, don't fucking worry too much. Bye." and ended the call, wrapping an arm loosely around his sub's waist. "That was Carol. She doesn't know how to pay your wage for the next few months. I told her it's not a problem, we'll be fine."

"Hm?" Daryl sat a bit stiffly on his owner's lap, pulling his fingers as he tried to follow all the information. "I don' get money?" That wasn't good at all. He saved it secretly so Negan could retire in a few years and wouldn't have to work anymore.

"All bars and clubs stay closed until the lockdown is over. You won't work there for a while. Once you go back to work you'll get paid again. Until then you work for me and I'll pay you."

Daryl furrowed his brows. "'s your club still open?"

"Nope." Negan patted his boy's thigh, indicating that he wanted to get up. "It's a lockdown. Everything is closed except for essential stuff."

Daryl sniffed his nose as he got up himself. The club was actually a bit essential. At least for Jesus who always said he would live a very miserable life if God hadn't invented dance floors. "What will I work?"

"What will you work?" Negan grabbed his keys, switched the lights off, and took his sub by the hand as he left the office. "You'll help around the house. We need a new fence on the east side, and a couple of windows need to be repaired."

"Hm." Daryl followed through the dark staircase, stumbling once but a firm hand wrapped like a vice around his wrist to keep him from falling. "What about your store?"

"They are all closed for now." Negan unlocked the door and held it open, signaling for Daryl to take his shoes off. "But we're still selling through the online store."

Daryl sat on the ground, slowly untying his shoe as he glanced up. "And in London?"

"Everywhere." Negan greeted Tiger, scratching the dog's ear. "Except for Stockholm. Not sure what the hell's going on over there."

Both shoes were put right next to the coatrack and Daryl scrambled back to his feet, wiping the back of his pants, before he followed Negan through the living room to the kitchen. "But how will you get enough money?"

Negan got a red cup and a glass out of the cupboard and filled both with water, then handed the cup over. "When I told you that I can provide for you, I fuckin' meant it. Being responsible for another human being isn't a game. I wouldn't have offered it if I wasn't sure I could hold my end up in good and bad times, right?" He took a sip, arching his brows at Daryl over the brim of his glass. "If the next teatime with Vlad or lil' Kimmy doesn't go as planned and they decide to nuke us?" He shrugged, putting his water on the counter. "Then we're probably in deep shit trouble. But as long as it's just about money, we're good. Right?" He jiggled the solid little ring attached to Daryl's collar, smirked and shared a brief peck on the lips. "Now do your mark, report, and prepare for bed. I wanna celebrate the fact that my boy's home tonight."

Daryl huffed a little laugh, reminded that he had the biggest crush on earth for a very tall, really not so angry man.


	4. Day 9

**Day 9**

  
"Daddy?" Jesus knocked and opened the office door at the same time, peeking in. "Am I interrupting?"

Negan kept his eyes on the document he was about to sign. "No. Come in."

"Thank you."

The very humble, overly polite way boy number two acted as he quietly shut the door and entered the room made Negan slightly suspicious. "What happened." He scribbled his name on the line beneath the text and put the paper aside.

"Hm?" Paul tucked a long strand behind his ear while looking over one of his dads shoulders. "Oh nothing, don't worry, Sir."

"Mhm." Negan put the pen down and sat up straight, giving the young man making himself comfortable on the edge of his desk full attention. "Where's Daryl."

"Upstairs with Tiger." Paul chuckled. "He's fine, I swear. I just wanted to ask you for a favor, kind of? Actually a really big one."

"No, you can't fuck him."

"Well..." He tilted his head with a smirk. "That's not what I came for, but I still hope it's not your final word on the topic."

Negan smirked as well. "Spill."

All the mischief left Paul's face. "Have you heard that PPE is needed for medical workers?" He scratched his wrist. "They're looking for anything available that might help and I thought since we can't really sell all the gloves and stuff right now, maybe we could donate some?"

Negan listened, elbows on the armrests, palms pressed together over his lap, finger on finger. "You want me to donate my fuckin' fisting gloves?"

Jesus grimaced sheepishly. "I mean... maybe not all."

Negan nodded, pursing his lips. "Tell Eugene to coordinate it with the stores abroad. 92 % of the stock on hand. Gloves and disinfectants if it's virucide. You can take to the hospital what we have in stock here."

"Really?" Paul seemed honestly surprised for a moment before he slid off the desk and wrapped himself around Negan's neck. "That's so generous! Thank you so much, Sir, you're the best!" 

"I know." Negan didn't return the hug but turned his head to kiss Paul's hair. "Protect yourself when you go out to deliver the stuff. If you catch that fuckin' virus I'll kick your ass."

Paul pulled his arms tighter, closing his eyes. "I'm careful. Don't worry."


	5. Day 12

**Day 12**

  
Daryl had never been a big fan of grocery shopping, but now a simple trip to Wholefoods wasn't just annoying, it was a complete nightmare.

It already started on the parking lot, where Negan lined up his boys in front of a freshly polished Dodge Charger to give a pep talk while handing out some of the black face masks Olivia had made, complete with Leather Factory logo.

"Eyes on me, I said!" He snapped his fingers, demanding full attention. "The rules. Daryl."

"Hm?" Daryl glanced up, nervously fumbling with the elastic straps on his mask. He wasn't prepared for a question but knew the answer anyway. "No touchin' anythin'." He flicked his head when the stern face still stared at him, obviously not satisfied with the reply. "Or people." 

"This shit spreads through eyes, mouth, and nose." Negan took the mask and looped the straps behind his sub's ears, then adjusted the fabric over chin and nose, making sure it fit properly. "That means you won't touch your face or your fucking mask, you will stay 6 feet away from others, and-" He switched to boy number two and did the same for him. "-keep your fucking fingers out of the olive containers."

"No problem, Sir." Jesus saluted. "They closed the salad bars anyway."

Daryl watched as Negan put his own mask on. It looked strange and made him uncomfortable. It reminded him of the danger that was obviously real enough for the cocky, powerful man by his side to follow the recommended safety precautions. He sniffed his nose beneath three layers of black fabric. "You can wait here." In the car. With all the doors and windows closed.

"You wanna go shopping without me?" Negan patted his pants down in search of his wallet and found it in the right back pocket. "Buy some puppy treats and a new squeaker toy?" 

Daryl shrugged half a shoulder. "Okay." As long as Negan would stay in the safe car he would buy anything.

It beeped twice when Negan locked the car. "That won't be necessary." He took boy number one by the hand and snapped the other for Paul to follow. "It's perfectly safe as long as we follow the fuckin' rules."

"Hm." Daryl wasn't convinced but the fingers wrapped around his hand had taken him in a firm hold and the man leading the way performed the same confident stride he always did when marching through a public space, so he didn't say anything and just tried to ignore the person sanitizing their shopping cart before wishing them a safe shopping experience at Wholefoods.

Inside it didn't look much different other than the increased number of hand sanitizer stations and the fact that most shelves were pretty much empty.

"What the-" Even Jesus seemed to find that odd, because he stopped in the middle of the deserted bread aisle, scratching the back of his head. "Have all the bakers left the building?"

Negan handed him half of the shopping list, "Here. Chop chop." then sent Daryl in the other direction. "You wanna go get the almond milk I like."

"Hm." Daryl walked off, giving the rude fucker who dared to pass Negan without the required 6-foot distance a serious stink eye and then wasn't quite sure where exactly he was because all the aisles and shelves looked somewhat the same in their empty state. He turned from left to right, squinted at a single, slightly battered can of sweetened condensed milk and then grabbed two of the three available 365 Everyday Value organic vanilla almond milk packages before anyone else would take them. On his way back to the cart he also found two cans of kidney beans, a bag of rice with a hole in it, and a tube of tomato paste that had somehow fallen underneath the empty pasta shelf. He flicked his head with his arm full of scavenged goods. "Where's the food." His question sounded a bit reproachful but Negan didn't seem to mind.

"Where's the food?" He steered the shopping cart through the fresh produce aisle groaning in annoyance at the meek assortment. "It's clogging up selfish people's fucking refrigerators because they think it's cool to bulk buy during a world wide crisis instead of thinking of other folks for a fucking change." 

Mrs. Stoke-Clapham with her cart full of toilet paper, canned peas, and 21 packages of dried pasta, perhaps felt a bit guilty as she hurried with her head down past the outspoken gentleman who uttered such blunt statements and quickly vanished in the meat section to plunder the poultry freezer cabinet. 

"Look what I found!" A young man with his long hair in a bun ungently dropped an arm full of stuff into the basket, smiling smugly underneath his face cover. "Pickles, cookies, Daddy's favorite mustard, and the real good hummus!" He presented his findings proudly and then fished a pack of bright red paper napkins out to hold it up. "Oh and I thought we could use these as toilet paper? Because the shelf is eeeeemptyyy."

"Yeah right." Negan grabbed the useless item and flicked it somewhere near the one organic tomato in the tomato display. "Or you use water and soap."

Paul shrugged, "Okay, why not. Oh wait..." and jogged off because he thought he might have spied a bag of sweet potatoes.

Daryl flicked some hair out of his eyes, pointing a finger to the left. "Can find soap."

Negan hated the deep worry in blue eyes, and put a hand to the small of his sub's back as he walked him towards the avocado basket. "We have enough at home. Maybe next week."

"Hm." Daryl grimaced beneath his face mask, watching a very tall, very beautiful man squeezing a couple of Avocados before putting them into the cart. He really hoped next week the shelves would be full again. But until then he would just pretend to be not very hungry so Negan would have enough to eat.


	6. Day 14

**Day 14**

  
"No, Aunty Maria!" Paul shook his head at the cell phone display while speaking into the slightly ancient cordless phone one of his dads insisted to keep around in case the evil futuristic technology would fail one day. "You have to swipe it! See? That's me calling you. You have to accept the call and swipe the little video symbol. It looks like a camera." He squinted, stopping in the middle of the room. "No, you can't break anything? Just touch it with your finger." Nine seconds later, half of a confused face appeared on the screen. "Hey, Aunty! There you are!" He smiled brightly, throwing the phone he didn't need anymore on the coffee table. "Isn't that great? Now we can see each other!"

The elderly lady at the other end of the line wrinkled her nose at the strange device and adjusted her glasses before she actually realized that somebody waved at her. "Oh... hello Paul." She held the phone a bit further away, squinted, and then took it even closer than before. "You look thin. Are you still a vegetarian?"

Paul didn't lose his smile, flopping down on the couch next to Rick. "I'm fine, Aunty Maria. How are you? Did you receive the groceries we sent?"

Maria tipped her head a bit to the left as she listened carefully with her good ear. "Yes." She nodded. "Fred carried it upstairs for me. You know I have trouble with my knee since the surgery."

"Uuuh..." Paul purred, wagging an eyebrow. "Who's Fred? The hot dude you met at church? Or the guy from bingo night."  
  


Rick rolled his eyes, "It's the postman." then pulled his boyfriend's wrist to say hello as well, waving at the phone screen. "Hi Maria, it's Rick. Please don't forget that the post guy has to wear a mask if he wants to enter your house."

Aunty Maria seemed confused for a moment by the new face appearing on her phone and once she recognized the person, poked an accusing finger at the display. "You've lost weight! I thought your new wife employed a housekeeper!"  
  


Rick rolled his eyes in the other direction. "That's not what-"

But his concerned relative wasn't finished yet and got a little teary-eyed. "You know Lori always cooked for you." She pulled a crinkled tissue out of her apron and lifted her glasses to wipe a couple of tears off. "Now look at you. You're so pale."

Mister Grimes had no idea what to say because he had actually gained 7 pounds since Shane and Olivia both provided sustenance and his skin had never looked healthier due to the excessive use of the sundeck. He shook his head with a sigh, rubbing his wrinkled forehead while Maria cried about poor boy Paul who didn't even get enough milk, cheese, and eggs and would probably die of a serious protein deficiency. "But I told you Negan is not my wife. He's my boss... Shane is my new partner." 

The inconsolable sob that followed caused Jesus to take the phone back and get up from the couch, trying to steer the conversation in a happier direction. "Aww, please don't cry Aunty Maria? I promise we are all fine! Here..." He left the apartment, jogged down the stairs, "I show you our new plants." and pushed the red door open to show all the pots, soil, and dozens of little vegetable plants Daryl was busy to unload from Shane's truck onto the loading ramp. "Isn't that great? Daddy wants some raised beds in the south yard for cough-it free lettuce!"

Maria squinted through her glasses, her nose almost touching the phone screen. "Cucumbers need to be sheltered from the wind."

"Really? Maybe we can put them in the corner behind the tool shed." Jesus put an arm around Daryl's shoulders. "Aunty, do you remember my brother Daryl? I live with him now."

Daryl was breathing hard and added a bit more dirt to his flushed face when he wiped his sweaty forehead with the back of his wrist. He had no idea what was going on.

Maria on the other hand had the problem instantly figured out, seeing a young man wearing not more than a thin, short-sleeved shirt. "Doesn't he have a sweater, Paul?" She walked with her phone to the big basket where she kept all her wool and knitting needles. "Does he have your size? But I have only blue left." She bent down, digging through all her equipment. "And a bit of green."

Paul shrugged at Daryl. "Would you like a blue sweater?"

Daryl shrugged as well, "Hm."

"Awesome!" Jesus kissed Daryl's cheek and went back inside. "He takes the blue one, Aunty Maria!"

Daryl wrinkled his nose against the hot midday sun as he watched the red door fall shut, waited a moment, and then shouldered another big sack of potting soil. Some of these quarantine days were really weird.


	7. Day 17

**Day 17**

  
The new health crisis situation and strict shelter-in-place order were actually a dream come true for introverted Daryl Dixon. 

No sobbing fanboys invaded the leather store to demand hugs, kisses, and selfies. Nobody asked him to go anywhere to talk to people. And covering your ugly face was suddenly a must. No shaking hands with stupid business partners. No conventions. No business trips. No parties. No eating out at fancy restaurants. The streets were empty. Everybody was at home. It seemed almost surreal at times, how everyone had to stay inside now and nobody was allowed to come for a visit. It was comforting and really nice. Knowing his little circle of people would stay within the walls of the mighty factory where they had everything they needed. Food, shelter, fun. Everybody was busy with their own little projects, everyone helped with the online store. Jesus was working hard to create more content for his Youtube channel. Olivia and Joseph took the gardening project on the south side of the building really seriously. And Negan actually left his office pretty often to do other things. He fixed the broken ping pong table, he taught Daryl some new skills with the bullwhip, he tore a wall down with Shane in the D section of the factory and started a jogging routine with Rick and Tiger. Yes, it was nice. Very much. But only as long as nobody switched the TV on, read the virus contaminated newspaper with rubber gloves, or checked certain sites on the internet. Because then the wonderful safe bubble in the Northeast of Atlanta suddenly didn't seem as safe and perfect anymore. Once you were reminded why the store was closed and why for the first time ever the club wouldn't open its gates for a monthly Threshold party. Why the house smelled of chlorine. Why the postman wore a mask and didn't want a signature for the package that had to stay in the garage for three days before anyone was allowed to see what's inside. Why Olivia wiped down all the groceries before putting them into the fridge. Why there weren't any airplanes in the sky and almost no cars on the street. Why Carl and the little Judith-girl weren't coming for a visit. Why there was no swim class for Daryl, no choir practice for Jesus, no drama club for Rick. Why Paul Rovia was gone every night at exactly 7 o'clock to stand high up on the rooftop and cheer and whistle his lungs out because it was the change of shifts for the critical care nurses at the Grady Memorial Hospital. 

Daryl never joined, but he thought very often about Ethel. The friendly nurse who had cared for an unconscious Negan and his two lost boys. He knew she wasn't a young woman anymore. She had grey hair. And he hoped she was still there and able to hear Paul's calls of encouragement. 

On day 17 of quarantine, he wasn't able to wait at the window for the little supporting ritual the city of Atlanta had invented. He didn't feel well. His stomach hurt. His heart too. And he took his evil little smartphone and quietly carried it down all the stairs, through a heavy metal door, down to the abandoned club, over a polished dance floor, past the bar and lounge, to the back entrance and private business rooms. Through a dark corridor with many pictures on the wall, to door number 7, where he stopped and knocked with just one knuckle but still too loud for his taste. He was asked to come in after a few seconds and found a very beautiful man sitting at the desk. Strong and healthy. Still, he didn't want to come closer and instead sat down on the grey sofa.

Negan didn't look up but spoke after a very silent minute. "What's wrong, puppy. Do I stink?" He didn't have to see the shocked expression on his sub's face to know for sure that it was there, just like the very sincere shake of the head. "No? Do I smell fucking good tonight?" The smile he tried to suppress had no chance against the little sniffing sound he could hear, followed by a shy 'Yes'. "Yeah, I do right? Good boy making such nice compliments." He finished the sentence he was writing and put his pen down. "But how come you're sitting all the way over there then?" 

Daryl shrugged, keeping his head down. He felt like crying and angry that he was such a pansy again. 

Negan studied his strangely quiet visitor for a moment, pursed his lips, sighed as he got up, "Okay..." and walked around the desk to sit down on the couch with another big sigh, putting his hand casually on the backrest. "Let's sit here then." He didn't have to wait long until Daryl moved closer, hiding his face in the safe space under his arm, making him sigh a third time and offer a solid hug, tight and secure. It was only after a while that he noticed the phone in completely still fingers. "What's with the phone? Did you talk to someone?" He played with a strand of longish hair, then tucked it behind a pale ear. "Hm? Did someone upset you? Do I have to beat some ass?"

Daryl shook his head to some extent but didn't really turn his face out of the comfort of Negan's shirt and all the warm skin underneath. He moved his hand though, holding the phone a bit higher.

Negan took it and switched it on, swiped a finger... and saw the last video his sub had been watching. He tapped 'play' and watched it as well. 2 minutes and 14 seconds. A compilation of overwhelmed hospitals, crying nurses, angry doctors, people on ventilators, a caravan of refrigerated trucks, brown wooden coffins... too many to count. He switched it off when the video ended, inhaled, and rested his chin on soft hair, not saying anything. Because there was nothing to add. It sucked. Big time.

Daryl was the one to break the silence, mumbling into white fabric. "Are you high risk?"

Negan pursed his lips, answering truthfully. "Don't think so." He thought about it, lazily playing with his sub's collar. "Nobody here is, but even if, it wouldn't make a difference. Nothing has changed. I told you we all could die anytime. And all we can do about it is try our best to stay fit and healthy. We don't smoke, we don't eat crap, we use a fucking helmet if we wanna ride a bike, we wear seatbelts in the car. And now we also wash our hands more often and try to keep distance to others so the fuckin' virus can't spread that easily. Right? It just seems a bit overwhelming at the moment because it's pushed in our fucking faces 24/7."

For the first time in eleven minutes, Daryl turned his head to glance up. "What if it doesn't stop?"

Negan squinted. "Of course it will stop. In a few weeks it'll be back to normal."

Daryl thought about it, fumbling with Negan's shirt. And he came to the conclusion that for once, his smart owner probably wasn't right. "Nah." He had seen it in a documentary. Viruses would always find a way to survive and come back. They were sneaky. "It'll stay."

Negan agreed. "It will. And people will learn to live with it. Hiding forever is not an option, right?"

Daryl wasn't so sure about that, so he just shrugged half-heartedly because hiding forever in the wonderful factory actually sounded really awesome.

"It's not." Negan pinched his sub's ear. "You wanna go on vacation with me. You wanna go swimming. You wanna visit your brother. You want me to fuck your sweet ass in the Eagle's backroom. Life sucks if you stay inside all the time."

Daryl reached back to touch his butt. "Hm?"

Negan cocked his brows with a smirk, shrugging down at boy number one.

An exciting image popped into Daryl's mind. Of himself in the Eagle's backroom, pushed into the wall while Negan fucked him bare for the whole world to see, complete with grunts and growls and all the filthy little love words moaned into his ear. It made him huff a nervous little chuckle and bury his flushed face again.

Negan smiled, pressing a kiss to his boy's head. "It'll be fine."


	8. Day 21

**Day 21**

  
After three weeks the general panic and unrest had settled a bit. People started to adapt and make the best out of the strange situation. Musicians gave concerts over the internet, high profile fashion companies changed production and from now on produced face masks, pretty much every restaurant had a take-out window. And even the world wide BDSM and leather community changed its ways and found new possibilities to connect and reach out to its members... with the Leather Factory leading the way. They offered tutorial videos, live streams, podcasts, online classes, virtual demos, and overall encouragement.

Daryl was a fan. And with every canceled event his owner wouldn't have to attend anymore, his general level of happiness increased a bit, because silly lovesick fanboys far away behind their computer screens were much easier to tolerate than pretty young men handing over inappropriate gift bags in person along with germ-infested hugs and kisses.

Plus, Negan could not invite any of his usual demo-partners. And no Marc, Bob, or Brandon meant that somebody else had to assist in front of the camera.

"I can help." Daryl watched as all the camera equipment was set up in the playroom.

"You can help?" Negan tested the lighting. "No, you can not. I asked you to clean out the toy cabinet."

Daryl sniffed his nose, glancing back over his shoulder at the completely spotless, newly arranged metal cabinet. He had even sorted the plugs by size. "'m done." And the rest in the bottom shelf he could do later.

"Are you a smartass puppy today?" Negan groaned because the light was much too bright. "How do you wanna help. Tell me."

Daryl shrugged one shoulder, then took a thin strand of hair between his fingers and held it up since today's 'BDSM for beginners' tutorial was all about hair pulling. He knew that because Jesus had already recorded the introduction, general explanations, and safety regulations that he would add in afterward.

"Yeah?" Negan reached up to adjust one of the big spots. "Should I drag you around my playroom by that pretty hair for all people to see?"

Daryl shrugged again. "You can." It really didn't sound that difficult. 

"Don't worry Daddy, I do it." Paul stepped up to take over with the technical stuff. "You can change."

"Thanks." Negan slipped out of his shirt and selected a black leather harness on the way, whistling through his teeth. "Puppy. Here." He slipped his arms through the shoulder straps, then showcased his bare chest in front of his sub's nose. "You wanna buckle me up. Nice and tight."

Daryl flicked some hair out of his eyes and shyly started on his task. He wasn't aware that Negan would wear something so pretty for the occasion and wasn't sure whether he liked it because hundreds of silly fanboys would see him like that. 

"It's just a short demo. Nobody is watching right now, we will record it." Negan lifted his left arm so Daryl could work on the strap leading to the center. "That means you can stop whenever you like. Right?" He waited for a nod and the small 'Right' he knew would follow three seconds later. "Right. Are you done dressing me?"

"Hm." Daryl made a step back to check out his work. It really looked very pretty.

"Alright. You may take your shirt off." Negan watched how Daryl pulled the shirt over his head in one swoop, tousling his hair hopelessly in the process. He circled a finger, "Turn around please." and took both of his sub's arms to position them behind the back. "You wanna keep them here for me, except for showing your signal. Understood?"

"Hm." A gust of nervousness tickled through Daryl's system, letting him tense a little. Maybe hairpulling would hurt as much as the horrible nipple clamps... but maybe not, because Negan didn't like to inflict real bad pain on his sub and also leaned very close from behind, sniffing his back and shoulder in the nicest way.

"Are you smelling so good for me?" Negan brushed some of the long strands at the back of his sub's head out with gentle fingers. "Love it."

"Yes." Daryl really did smell good because Olivia had bought a new shower gel that was supposed to smell like a tropical island, but in reality, smelled like the virgin Cuba libre Simon always mixed for Shane. 

"We're good to go, start whenever you're ready." Jesus pushed the record button and formed the letter O with thumb and forefinger.

Since there was no introduction to make, Negan took his time, kissed the crook of Daryl's neck twice just to make him shudder, whispered a naughty promise for their kennel-time later into a glowing ear, and then turned around and went to stand in perfect angle and confident posture in front of the camera. "Hairpulling in BDSM has nothing to do with yanking some chick by their pigtails. We're not in preschool. Hairpulling in BDSM is a way to assert control over the sub. You use it to guide the sub's head where you want it to be, you hold them in place, you use it to control their body, force them into a kneeling position, or give an indication that it's time to stand." He snapped his fingers, pointing one down by his left side. "One hand, both. In the back, the front, the sides. Totally up to you as long as you don't violently yank their fucking head around."

Daryl warily came closer with his hands behind his bare back, nervously glancing at the camera and Jesus sitting next to it. "Hello." He wasn't sure why he said it and felt stupid the second he did but Negan didn't seem to mind and didn't make fun of him either. On the contrary, he gave his sub full attention, greeting him back in a clear, strong voice. 

"Hello to you too, boy. Are you so well behaved for me?"

"Hm. Yes." Daryl looked up and tried to concentrate on Negan's face but his eyes kept flickering nervously to the camera.

"Yeah, you are." Negan cupped the back of his sub's neck, held him there for a moment, "But you also wanna make sure to focus on me, right? Eyes on me." then ran his fingers from the neck up to grab a handful of hair, lightly pulling backward. 

Daryl's back arched and he held his breath, staring up with wide eyes.

"What's that?" Negan cocked his brows. "Did I grab you by the hair?" He strengthened his hold, swaying his boy's head from left to right. "Mhm. It's even better than a leash, right? No chance for my pretty pup to sidle off." He smirked and briefly leaned in to peck Daryl's forehead, then focused on the camera again. "You wanna make sure to grab as much hair as possible and you wanna do it close to the skull. Pull by the roots, not the ends." He loosened his grip for a second, just to use more strength a moment later, wrapping all the hair around his index and middle finger for a more balanced grip as he turned the man's head sideways for a view in profile. "You have full control like that." 

Daryl had to admit he liked it. It felt good. It wasn't really painful. It was exciting... and made his dick twitch as well as his arms when he automatically wanted to bring a hand to his crotch. He didn't, though, distracted by his owner's very authoritative demeanor.

"Or do it like this if you want to change their position." Negan used both hands at the left and right of his sub's head, widening his stance a little as he guided Daryl on his knees. "Make them kneel, make them look up to you." He did both and then pushed his middle right in his boy's face. "Make them suck your dick and control the depth and pace just as you please." Daryl gazed up at him with beautiful submission written all over his slightly blushed face, his lips parted for all the things spoken about. He loved it, smiling to some extent. "Look at you being so content down there." He rolled his hips, unashamedly thrusting his bulge. "You wanna serve me while everyone's watching?"

"Aaand we're gonna get demonetized..." Jesus mumbled behind the camera and then shrugged because that really wasn't his problem as long as he had the live show right in front of his delighted eyeballs. 

Daryl tried to nod and shifted on his knees when the fingers in his hair used even more strength, creating a burning sensation on his scalp. He really wanted to. Right here, right now, for all the silly fanboys to see. 

"Mhm." Negan changed back to one hand, raking it from the front through long bangs before fisting them painfully. "I know." He squatted down, pushing Daryl's head back just a bit. "But you can't, right? Everyone would spill their fuckin' soup seeing my pretty puppy performing so well." He wagged a brow with a wicked glint in dark eyes. "And we can't have that."

Daryl spread his thighs just an inch more and even though he couldn't breathe very well with his head tilted back like this, opened his mouth with his tongue sticking out challengingly.

A dark chuckle filled the room and Negan rose back to his feet, his hand grabbing his sub's bangs even harder as he grasped the man's chin with the other and spat a thick glob of saliva, intentionally aiming somewhat sloppy to have something to smear around before pulling Daryl forcefully to his feet and leaning in close. "Upstairs, undress. On your fucking knees until I'm there."

Daryl's heart was hammering in his chest like crazy, his penis fighting for freedom in the tight confinement of his pants, his chest heaving. He grunted once when he was roughly manhandled a last time by his hair and then nestled into the gentle touch a broad hand offered for two seconds, cupping the side of his face. He smiled faintly and turned around, leaving the playroom while the camera was still on. He really was the best helper. 


	9. Day 25

**Day 25**

  
A fairly loud argument disturbed the peace behind the factory's thick walls for almost 30 minutes before at 6:16 in the early evening Negan finally had enough and stopped his video conference with the production team from Mister S leather 15 minutes early to leave his office in greatest annoyance and see what the fucking problem was. 

He didn't have to look for long. His employee stood in the stairwell together with his permanent sub, obviously fighting out some serious issue. 

"OH YEAH?" Rick grabbed Daryl's arm and held it up accusingly. "Look at your sleeve! It's disgusting!"

"Shut up!" Daryl tried to pull free and as soon as he succeeded, pushed the other man hard into the wall, grunting. He wanted to say something back. Something mean. Something hurtful. But instead, his vision got a bit blurry when the shame he felt got too prominent to handle. 

"HEY! What the bleeding fuck is going on here!"

Rick rubbed his sore backside, flicking a furious finger at the problem in question. "Ask him! We're in the middle of a pandemic and he's sneezing across the room and wipes his snot everywhere! He doesn't even wash his fucking hands! He behaves like a tramp and nobody cares!" 

Negan flared his nostrils, eyes on Rick as he snapped his fingers. "Boy. Wait upstairs for me."

"Of course!" Rick huffed a sarcastic laugh. "Why don't you wrap him in a blanket! God forbid he's confronted with the truth for once!" He waved a hand at Daryl's tousled hair. "When was the last time he took a bath? He's a pig!" 

"Daryl." Negan's tone was perfectly calm. "I've had a long day. Go make me a shake, please. Mango and kale. I'm up in ten minutes."

Daryl turned around and slowly made his way upstairs, knowing full well that the Cowboybootsguy was right. Of course.

Negan kept his eyes firmly on Rick, waited until his sub had arrived upstairs at the apartment. Waited for the click of the door. Waited another 12 seconds. And even then didn't see a reason to raise his voice. "I know you are upset. I know this whole fucking situation is wearing you out." He paused again, grinding his teeth. "But if you ever talk to my boy like that again... I will crush your fucking windpipe."

"Why." Rick grimaced as he couldn't take the piercing stare any longer and had to drop his gaze. "Because I'm not allowed to tell the truth? He eats like a caveman, he would wear the same shirt for a month, and if you wouldn't ask him to take a shower once a day, he would breed an entire flea circus in your bed and you know it." The silence that followed was agonizing and the precursor for the vice-like fingers that curled in the next second like a steel cuff around his throat, pushing him back into the wall and the air out of his lungs.

"Yes, Rick." Negan came so close that his intentions could easily be mistaken for an attempt to kiss as he hissed his words in the lowest, most dangerous voice of his repertoire. "Tell me why. Why is it that he never learned basic rules of hygiene or some fuckin' table manners. Why do I have to remind him every day that it's probably a good idea to wash your ass and blow your fuckin nose into a tissue and not your shirt. Why Rick. You tell me, why I never fuckin' shamed him about it and will rip your pathetic dick off if you ever do it again." He gave the man's throat a final harsh squeeze, "WHY!" before letting go and taking a step back. "Go and use your itty bitty brain cells for something productive. Fuckin' think about it. Long and hard. Then you write it down and present your fuckin' conclusions to me. 3 pages minimum."

Rick glowered at the tips of his old boots and flinched the very second he opened his mouth to say something. 

"NOW!" Negan bellowed his command right into Rick's face and stood his ground until the second door fell shut with a tame little 'click'. He waited another moment to collect himself before he made his way upstairs.

A mango cut in weird shapes and a few leaves of kale lay scattered on the kitchen counter. Abandoned. He found Daryl in the bathroom at the sink, washing his hands frenetically.

"There you are." He stood close behind his back, reaching with both arms around him. "Thought you make me a shake."

Daryl stiffened for a second, staring down at the pair of hands joining his under the running water. He watched as more soap was added, watched as a lot of thick white foam was rubbed into his skin, watched as it all vanished in the drain, and then how two big hands took his to shake all the water off.

Negan looked at the miserable figure in the mirror. "You wanna know what happened this morning?" He got a little shrug and decided to go with it. "Rick got a call. His brother is in hospital. Seems he caught the fucking virus."

Daryl watched when a big fluffy towel was used to dry his hands off. He had no idea that Rick had a brother, too.

"That's not an excuse to treat you like that. But it's the reason why he is so upset. He let it out on you. He shouldn't have."

Daryl's expression hardened and he tried to pull away. "Don' care." He really didn't.

"Mh." Negan shrugged. "I do. And he'll apologize."

"No." Daryl ducked his head as he wriggled out of his owner's arms and left for the kitchen. He didn't want an apology. He didn't want to be in front of the mirror any longer. He wanted to make a shake and then run away to live under a bridge like the tramp he was. 

Negan came to the kitchen as well, silently started to cut the rest of the mango, broke a banana in half, added a bit of flax seeds while Daryl cut the kale, held the lid of the blender open so Daryl could pour some almond milk and water in, and then pushed the button, filling the kitchen with the earsplitting noise of a powerful Vitamix motor. For 20 seconds, then he filled two big jars with the greenish end result.

Daryl gave the tall man by his side a glance for confirmation before he took a cautious sip. It was tasty as always. He drank some more, licked his lips, wiped them with the back of his hand, and opted to stare at the high tech coffee blender when images of his classroom at elementary school popped into his head. "I had fleas. Was kicked out of school." With a note from Ms. Greene that he was supposed to give his father.

Negan emptied the second half of his glass and gave a perfectly casual answer. "It's called lice. Most kids get them. I did too." Twice. Because he hadn't learned the lesson the first time that it was a bad idea to snag Patrick Miller's awesome baseball cap and wear it proudly on the way back home. "It's not a big deal." He shrugged when Daryl looked at him in total disbelief. "You comb them out and threaten your fuckin' cousin to sleep on his pillow if he doesn't want to share the Oreos." He put his glass into the sink, washed it out a bit because he hated dried flax seeds on his dishes, and then leaned against the counter with his arms crossed, nudging Daryl with his elbow. "I had an unfair advantage though, right? I had parents who went and bought some head lice treatment and actually sat down for two hours to comb my hair out. My mom also taught me to brush my teeth as soon as I had the first one. She gave me a bath every night. And good old pop taught me how to shave on my 15th birthday. I wanted a ticket for the monster truck rally, but he got me a fucking fancy shaving-kit."

Pictures of a little Negan with wet hair and lots of bubbles in a big bathtub went through Daryl's head. He wished they could have been friends back then. And he drank more of his shake and then sniffed his nose very quietly before sharing something from his own childhood. "Merle taught me to shave." Before he had any beard at all, but that was okay because he had felt like a very important person that day.

"He's a good boy then." Negan meant it and even though Daryl snorted a dismissive laugh, knew that the compliment was highly appreciated. "What else did he teach you."

There were a lot of things coming to Daryl's mind. Fly fishing, how to play skat, spying at naked Ms. Lapinsky through the window. Inhaling cigarette smoke deep into the lungs. Winning a fistfight the dirty way. Replacing an exhaust system. How to get into a strip club at the age of 16. He didn't want to share any of that, though. 

Negan turned sideways to stand closer and buried his nose into his sub's hair, inhaling soundly. "Bet he taught you a lot of manly stuff. All the cool things." 

"Hm." Daryl shrugged and felt the edge of his lips curl into a tiny smile. He really wished Negan could have been Merle's friend as well when they had been kids.

Negan loved when a pretty face hid against his chest. "So... how about some ping-pong before I go back to work? Winner gets his marvelous dick sucked." 

Daryl smiled because Negan always won. "Okay."

"Okay." Negan kissed the top of his boy's head and patted his butt. "Wash your glass then. I hate dried fucking flax seeds on my dishes." He wanted to pull back to get moving but two arms wrapped around his middle, holding him in place while a shy statement was mumbled into his shirt.

"I'll take more showers."

He squinted, needing a second to get the message. "Boy." He pulled back and grasped his sub's chin, lifting it for eye contact. "You are clean. You smell awesome. I would eat my fuckin' breakfast off your bare ass. I love your hair just the way it is. You have the most delicious mouth in town. And I am sorry that you can't get rid of your fuckin' chronic sniffles." He paused, arching his brows. "Right? Rick was upset. He talked bullshit. If I had any problem with your hygiene I would tell you. You are none of his business. You wear my collar. I am the one taking care of you. You focus on me. End of story."

"Hm." Daryl listened, feeling a bit better. Negan wouldn't lie to him. And even Jesus said sometimes that he smelled good. Then he would sniff at his neck or hair and make funny noises or bite his skin. 

"What do you wanna say."

"End of story."

Negan suppressed a shit-eating grin. "Exactly. Now wash your glass and get your tasty ass down to my sports room. I need my dick sucked."


	10. Day 29

**Day 29**

  
People had to apply for a visit at the Georgia State Prison several weeks in advance and got a confirmation by mail if it was approved. Daryl had his approval for Wednesday the 30th for over a month now, safely hidden in the small desk drawer in his basement room. He knew what he wanted to wear, he had a plan what he wanted to talk about, he had photos to share, and 3 new magazines as a gift for his brother. But 22 hours prior, the phone rang and a by now familiar person called. Berta, the prison's receptionist. She left a message for Mister Dixon, saying that all visits got canceled due to the current situation and the risk of the virus spreading within the jail. Daryl thought it was bullshit. He wasn't sick. Merle wasn't. They could just wear a mask and gloves and wipe everything down with Lysol like Olivia did all day everywhere at the factory. 

But Negan didn't think it was bullshit. "Don't worry about it. They'll send you a new date. You can call him." He insisted on the last statement and even organized it, made Daryl sit in the office during the call, and rewarded him with a bottle of orange juice from the club's bar after it was finished.

In the early evening, Daryl worked at the garage with Shane on one of the cars. They listened to a local radio station. The weather report. The current pandemic infection numbers and death rate for the US. Hotel California. An old KISS classic. And some local news for Atlanta. Food shortages at two of the city's food banks. A fire at an animal shelter. And 31 confirmed coronavirus infections among inmates at the Georgia state prison.

Daryl didn't want to finish the car anymore. He didn't want to put the tools back in the box. He didn't care that Shane wanted to talk to him. He just left the garage in search of Negan.

Joseph knew where he was. "At the office." He pointed with his mop, smiling friendly with slightly red cheeks after cleaning the whole club area, dry, wet, and with disinfectant.

Daryl nodded, waved with two fingers as a thank you... and then froze the second he meant to open his owner's office door when he heard that a phone call was held. Negan in a serious tone. Demanding. Almost angry. 

"No! You stay safe! You keep your ugly ass in your fuckin' cell. You wash your fuckin' paws every time you receive food. You won't catch that shit or I'll come by personally to knock your rotten teeth out!" 

Daryl listened out on the corridor, holding his breath. Sickness flooded his stomach. Negan had heard the news, too. And he was worried. For Merle Dixon.

That night he woke up from a haunting nightmare, so real and painful it made him vomit on Egyptian cotton sheets and hit his head on the nightstand. His nose bled. His thoughts ran wild. Images of an intubated Merle with lungs made of stone still fresh and vivid on his mind.

Negan held him, told him to breathe. He said no fucking virus would want to reside in Merle's body. He promised him his brother would be fine and probably get a hundred years old, living in the D block of the factory like a rich drug lord or mafia boss, with a harem of pretty girls and a fat Mercedes in front of the door.

Daryl concentrated on steady fingers combing through his hair. Focused on a deep, very calm voice talking to him. And he closed his eyes with a faint smile when the new, far better images replaced the horror scenario his silly head had produced.


	11. Day 35

**Day 35**

  
After 5 weeks people started to get restless and angry. They wanted out, wanted their life back, and all the fun and comfort that came with it, even with the risk of catching a life-threatening virus. States started to discuss the procedure of lifting the lockdown. Smaller stores and restaurants were allowed to reopen under severe restrictions. 'The life after' got planned.

The Leather Factory was no different. In other countries with lower infection rates stores were already open and the main one in Atlanta was about to follow. The safety and hygiene concept was done and approved, disinfectants, face masks, and gloves were delivered by the pile, tape-marks decorated the floor and friendly signs to remind the customers of social distancing and the new rules were plastered at doors and shop windows.

The day before the reopening, exactly 6 weeks after the shutdown, the CEO and owner of Leather Factory Inc., took the afternoon off to spend some quality time with his subs and friends. The weather was glorious, not a cloud in the bright blue sky to a balmy 84,2. They went by car to Piedmont Park and went for a long stroll. Tiger had the time of his life running without a leash for miles. Jesus had brought his skateboard, Rick wore tennis shoes instead of his old boots, and Daryl went back and forth between Paul to watch his coolest tricks, and Shane and Negan to drink from the water they had brought or walk for a while by their side just to listen to their relaxed conversations about business and politics. He was scolded once for touching his face during a pandemic. He was whistled after when he drifted too far from the group. He was taken firmly by the hand, from the basketball court all the way to the closed down ice cream parlor. He received a raisin for the quarter he found and brought to his owner. He got his hands sanitized for sitting on a bench and touching it. He laughed about a joke Shane told. He smiled when Paul took a happy selfie with Rick and their new masks on.

... he looked around and thought maybe they really lived in weird times, but his little part of the world actually still looked truly terrific and surely wouldn't fall apart just because of a stupid virus.


End file.
